The Diseased and the Tottery
by Altaica
Summary: Well...it's another tasteless crossover...CATS and the tortoise/hare thing...but what can be said about the tortoise and the hare? Not much, thats for sure. Just....be nice....this thing bites, in my humble opinion, but hey, that's show biz.


  
  
The diseased and the tottery....  
  
  
There was once a cat who was said to be the fastest in all of the land (but who ever reads tabloids anyhoo?). This cat's name was Gus, and he was a theater cat in his "day," which was actually night but you can't say that to poor Gus, because his Alzheimer's is getting so bad he might just go beserk. Anyway, Gus suffered from palsy, and it made his wee paws shake, and while some said that the palsy was what made him the fastest cat in all the land, the rest said, pish-posh, Gus is (or was) a grand track star.  
  
Well, there was this tortoise, and there was some sort of a plot to this story long since forgotten, but enough about that damned plastic orange tree and back to this pathetic toodle we call a story. Where was I? Oh, ye-es...the tortoise.   
  
If they said that Gus had palsy (and Alzheimer's, and several STDs, and too many cancers to count from his big-screen-ciggie-smoking-days) then it was nothing compared to the tortoise. Old Deuteronomy was his name, and although tortoises are supposed to be green, this one was gray, and indeed, he did have Grey Poupon, which is irrelevant but there you go.  
  
Well, Old Deuteronomy had a set of the totteriest legs you have ever seen. His legs were so tottery that his heart didn't even have to pump blood anymore (although it hadn't for years anyhoo), the vibrations of his legs would push the blood through his system by themselves. Why, one time---meh, well, I'm not here to tell you the history of Old Deuteronomy's wee tottery legs, I'm here to tell you the story (Story? What story?)  
  
So anyway, one day in the senior citizen's center, Old Deuteronomy was playing Bingo with Gus, and Gus just happened to mention how much he liked to run. "Well," Old Deuteronomy said. "I also like to run, you wascally wabbit," for suddenly the author was seized with a desire to write like Elmer Fudd. "And I challenge you to a race."  
  
Gus stood up with the help of his walker and wobbled to the door, for he had been in the liquor cabinet again, draining the gin. "C'mon, you old fart, let's get this over with. 'The Young and the Drunken' is on in a half an hour and I have my gin cabinet waiting for me." So Old Deuteronomy also stood and hobbled out with his walker.  
  
Plato stood at a starting line that had magically appeared outside of the senior citizen's center. He had never seen two more beautiful wrinkled old dudes in his life, he decided, and as soon as he fired off the gun he started to follow the two.  
  
Gus made immediate, immense progress thanks to the little rockets attached to the wheels of his walker, and soon Old Deuteronomy was just plodding along with his pick-it-up-and-set-it-down device, and I'm not sure if we mean the walker or not. At any rate, eventually Gus reached the bar that magically appeared on the route and flew inside for a quick drink.  
  
Ten drinks later, Old Deuteronomy was just passing the pub. Plato soon realized where Gus was and went inside to find the ancient, diseased, maggot-eaten theater cat passed out on the floor of the pub, his rocket-walker stolen, foam coming from his nostrils.   
  
Old Deuteronomy was just reaching the finish line (the vicarage wall) when, six feet away in the pub, Plato hauled Gus to his feet and smacked his ass playfully.  
  
Gus's eyes popped and he ran the next six feet (or maybe it was his palsy, who's to say?), knocked Old Deuteronomy's wee tottery legs off, and spasmodically twitched his way over the finish line.  
  
The tabloids cried the news far and wide, Old Deuteronomy's wee tottery legs had been knocked off of him and Gus's palsy had carried him those last few feet over the finish line. It all ended up being a waste, since Gus's diseases and drinking finally kicked in and he died. Of course, Old Deuteronomy died too, since nobody thought to pick him up off of the street.  
  
But that is not the end, my friends. After they died, Plato did a little gravedigging and had his fun late in the night, with the shadow of the handy little church that sprung up out of the dirt looming over him.  
  
Of course, eventually he died too, just because I say so.  



End file.
